


if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internal Monologue, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, aziraphale "bad coping mechanisms" fell, i listened to mitski one too many times and this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: aziraphale ponders the nature of his relationships (i.e., op projects on aziraphale for a couple hundred words)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Kudos: 24





	if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room

**Author's Note:**

> mitski did this to me thats my only excuse

Something's stinging in his gut. Needle sharp, a butterfly catheter. The kind of hurt so perfectly disguised with all sorts of soft, milky sweet kindness that he doesn't even notice it until the tip's already pricking his veins. Blood dribbling down his wrist in round, warm rivulets. And a hand to wipe him clean, friendly fingers posing at conscientiousness after having been the ones to rip him open. Tearing into his insides, and glowering over the split between his ribs like a hungry dog. 

Gabriel never lets his teeth get too dull.

And Aziraphale knows that all too well.

He tolerates cruelty, tolerates what he can of Gabriel's nerve-bitten, nails-on-an-empty-chalkboard scolding. His teeth feel like broken shrapnel sinking into Aziraphale's shoulder. And his tongue--that violent, vicious thing--licking the remnants of his wounds only makes the burn grow hotter. Aziraphale shivers with it. He always shivers, regardless of how gentle, how pretentiously polite Gabriel tries to be. It's never enough for him, never enough to soften the blow of what comes afterwards. Sex as a means to an end--at least, between them--is a delightfully stupid idea. And Aziraphale's always been stupid. So very stupid.

Weaning himself on the affections of others, groping for a hand to hold in a cold, empty room. The reflection of people he can't quite recognize shining through the polished floor. He never reaches them, never gets there, no matter how hard he tries. He's been beating at that floor for so long he just might crack the surface, and fall through entirely. His open-palmed pounding a shell of the firm, fierce fists he'd once possessed. 

He isn't sure if he wants to reach the other side. Whatever that might entail. He's grown so comfortable like this, nestled up between two distant lovers. One vacant and half-hearted, the other so passionate it's nearly painful. Both kept at arm's reach, where they'll be safe, where they'll be _happiest_. Because deeply, truly, Aziraphale isn't anything like what they expect of him. He's cultivated a seperate, perfect image of himself for them both to take relish in. The quiet, careful disobedient, avoiding duties in whatever ways he can. And the model employee--as model as he can get. So inherent flawed in his design, tossed from Heaven by the hands of the Almighty with intent for him to _fail_. 

And fail he did. Over, and over, and _over_. He's had so many little failures they've rotted in the back of his mind, in the chasm of his stomach. Pickling in his chest, like a disease crowding out his lungs, overflowing. A Pulmonary Edema by no other name.

He often wonders how anyone ever manages to tolerate him at all.

And, overtime, he's come to the conclusion that perhaps, just perhaps, they _don't_.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @traumaticz (tw for some content) if u wanna idk like beat me up behind an arbys set up a time w me there


End file.
